I took my mother 70 year old mother to Las Vegas. We dined at an Italian restaurant. The server was snobbish and borderline rude to us and other tables. He went on break and an older direct from Italy waiter took over and he was by far better. When I ordered an unusual Italian desert drink, the new waiter really perked up. He brought the drink and since his area was slowing down, he sat down and visited with us. That second waiter really turned the experience around.
We were not inexperienced at that level of dining. Both my mother and I had been to several ambassador parties. And we do not treat anyone as a lesser person due to their job. Everyone is due respect regardless of their job.
The area was slowing down and the good waiter was leaving We invited him to sit with us after he was done working.
My dad loves to tell the story how they were on business trip in France in the 80’s, and one evening went to a fine French restaurant.
When it was time to order the wine, one of the crew asked for Coca-Cola. Dad told how he will never forget the face of the waiter when he realized what this weird barbarian requested, but in a split-second regained his professional composure.
After a while the waiter came back with a bottle of wine ordered by the rest, and the bottle of coke for the barbarian. He opened the wine and poured a bit to the glass, and one of them made the ritual of tasting the wine and accepting it.
The he opened the coke and poured a bit to the glass for the barbarian, who understood that now he’s made fun of, but played along, smelled and tasted the coke and nodded approvingly that some perfectly fine Coca-Cola in this glass.
The waiter’s revenge, with class.
Making the inexperienced fine-diner feel uncomfortable is the only cardinal sin. Truly classy fine dining restaurants ensure the inexperienced “fine-diner” has an unforgettably wonderful time.
I was born into a socially very unassuming family but, for many years, I worked in an environment where high-end business lunches were the norm; weekly (sometimes daily) high dining was the usual backdrop for cutting a deal. The waiters and mâitre d’s were always ultra-professional and slick. My parents were always intrigued by this part of my life so, for a wedding anniversary treat, I took them to a very up-market French restaurant in Mayfair.
As soon as we arrived my heart started breaking: my mum and dad had dressed up in their finest clothes but, compared to the other diners, my parents’ outdated Sunday best left them looking like skint hicks. I could tell, as soon as we entered, that they wished we’d never come.
We were shown to our table and, from start to finish of our meal, the waiters took immense pride in busting their behinds to give us a fabulous time. We received endless gorgeous amuse bouches “compliments of the chef”. Just hearing the waiters saying: “Excellent choice” whenever my parents ordered an unfamiliar dish stopped them feeling ignorant and out of their depth. When my mum said she was too full for dessert the mâitre d’ brought a little plate of handmade chocolates for her saying: “In case Madame changes her mind…” When I received the bill nothing, apart from our specific orders, had been charged.
My mum said it was the most special meal of her life. Now that’s what I call a fine dining experience!
Many years ago my wife and I were dining in a very posh Italian restaurant in Downtown Fort Worth. Seated at the table next to us was a young couple who appeared to be on a first date. This fellow was obviously nervous and exhibited his anxiety by rocking back and forth in his chair. At some point, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him slowly dissapear from sight.
My wife looked down at her feet in astonishment. He had fallen backwards onto the floor and was struggling to get up. This happened right at the feet of a waiter approaching the table. The waiter set his tray on the table and helped the poor guy get up. His date was mortified, but we had to muffle our laughter with our napkins…Until we got out of the restaraunt later that evening!
It has been a great source of amusement to us even to this day.
To all those folks accusing us of being callous people. We are not, he was fine and wasn’t even embarrased. We have a sense of humor and would have laughed at ourselves had one of us done that.
And this was posted in the replies by the then young lady that was his date that night:
Katheryn Millwee:I honestly think that I was the young lady. He and I both lived in Fort Worth; it was our first date, though he’d been asking me out for weeks. He was so exceedingly nervous! He was telling a joke and in his exuberance, he leaned too far back just before the punchline. After the waiter helped him up off the floor, he finished his joke, like nothing had happened. We did end up getting engaged, but not married. I tell this story often.
Speaking as somebody who’s worked in upwards of two dozen restaurants, from hot dog shacks to high end farm to table, the one thing that is sure to piss off the staff is ALLERGIES.
Not real allergies. That’s not your fault, and any decent restaurant will happily try to accommodate them if they can. Fake allergies, on the other hand, make the kitchen staff want to stab you right in the face. If you have “allergies” they better be real, because nothing else is so apt to slow down and degrade the quality of your service as the staff finding out you have a fake one.
Let’s say for example you claim to have a gluten allergy, but you would like the salmon in sauce normande. Not only do I have to make a new sauce, which will take a second, I have to do it in an area that has been sanitized to be gluten free. I don’t know how allergic you are, and I don’t know if you have your Epi-Pen handy. I may not be the best cook ever, but I really prefer when people don’t die after they eat my food.
If, while I’m breaking down my area, and making your special sauce so that you don’t die, your waitress comes back and tells me you’re eating the rolls at the table, well then. You’ve just put a 15 minute hold on your order over and above the extra time it takes to make it, and by extension your table. I will personally make sure that your dish comes out just barely within spec, and I promise you that I am not going to worry too much about getting it perfect.
A real allergy means at least a 5 minute delay while I change out my knives, cutting board, towels, and spoons. A fake allergy takes that long, plus a penalty that depends on how I feel, and how badly your little stunt has screwed up the timing of my other orders.
So if you have an allergy, by all means speak up. We absolutely want you to have a nice meal, and will definitely do our utmost to make sure you can enjoy a nice night out. If you happen to just not like something, definitely say that instead of “I’m allergic to…”.
I had one lady try to tell me she was allergic to the COLOR red. Not red dye, not the beetles, not a component of a particular red color, just the color. She and her companions waited a looooong time for their food. If you’re thoughtless and insincere enough to make my job more difficult, and delay everyone else’s meal, you get what’s coming to you quite a lot of the time.
